moon come to moth

February 11, 2007

Her eyes were so green; we sat
beside the sea. She opened me
to the light, and studied my features –
moon come to moth, I suppose.

I tattooed her name on my arm;
an infection bled the sea green ink
through the veins to my heart
where it stained like mothblood

on a distant moon. Her features
were studied, calm as an ocean
in repose. She dropped me
and infection bled her sea green eyes
through the veins to my heart
where they stained

like a tattoo on a distant moon
that bled into a darker sea of green
ink that faded into my arm
as my heart spluttered,
fell and rose, though broken.

A moth’s wings before a tide of ink
fluttered open then closed.


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